Down By The River
by el spirito
Summary: Abby has to pick Ichabod up from the police station in the middle of the night because he's sick and wandering down by the river and raving about George Washington. That's it. That's the story.


The phone rang and Abbie startled awake, swearing under her breath as she fumbled for her cell. The light hurt her eyes and made her squint, so it took her a few seconds to see who was calling. _Luke._

"Morales," she growled as she answered. "Why the hell are you calling me at 2 in the morning?"

"Sorry," Luke said, "but I thought you might want to know. A unit just picked up your tall, blonde and crazy friend."

It took a second for his words to register, but once they did she sat up, wide awake.

"You've got Ichabod? Where was he?" As she spoke, she slid out of bed and started getting dressed.

"Down by the river."

Abbie swore again as she yanked on her boots. "In this weather? What was he doing there? How is he?"

"We don't know what he was doing," Morales said. "Blake just said they found him standing on the shore, rambling about Valley Forge and George Washington. They brought him back to the station, but he hasn't said much since."

"Damn it Luke, did you at least get him some medical help?" Abbie demanded, concern coloring her tone sharper than she'd intended.

"Hey, the way he's talking, any doctor would send him straight to the asylum. I'm doing you a favor calling you first, Mills."

Abbie stood and pulled on her jacket with a sigh. "I know, Luke, I'm sorry. I'll be there in 20 minutes. Try to keep him alive?"

"Will do," Luke said. "Hurry."

Abbie sighed again as she headed out to her car, grumbling under her breath. Between Jenny and Crane and all the crazy going down in this town, it felt like it had been weeks since the last time she'd gotten a decent night's sleep. She was half tempted to turn her phone off and camp out for a few days just to get away from everything, but she was fairly confident that everything would fall apart the second she left town.

The police station was quiet, mostly, when she got there, just a few of the usual drunks sleeping it off in the cells and the handful of officers on duty for the night. Luke was at his desk, waiting for her apparently, because he stood up as soon as she walked in.

"Hey," he said. "He's over there."

Abbie looked where he indicated and had an immediate reaction that was a mix of consternation and sympathy. Crane was hunched over on a chair, a blanket around his shoulders, and Abbie was impressed at how small a man of his height could make himself look. As she got closer, she could see the minute shudders and the slight flush coloring his cheeks above his beard. He looked miserable.

"Oh, Miss Mills," Ichabod said when he spotted her, climbing gracelessly to his feet. He stood swaying slightly above her, long legs suddenly looking more like those of a newborn colt than of a confident, if obnoxious, soldier. "I apologize, I never intended for you to – "

He stopped speaking as Abbie lightly smacked her palm against his forehead, feeling for a fever and quickly recognizing that he had one.

"I don't – "

"Ichabod," Abbie said. "Shh."

Ichabod, surprisingly, obeyed, clamping his mouth shut and clutching a bit tighter at his blanket.

"You're running a fever. I'll take you home, get you some Theraflu, okay? Just hang tight for a sec."

"Theraflu?" Ichabod murmured, frowning.

"It's like tea, but with medicine. It'll make you feel better."

"Oh," Ichabod said. "I, uh, are you certain chamomile won't suffice?"

"We'll worry about it later, okay? Come on, let's get you home." She tucked one hand under his elbow, the other resting at the small of his back, and started steering him toward the door. Crane allowed himself to be led, tripping over his feet a few times but moving under his own steam. He was mumbling under his breath, though Abbie only caught snatches of what he was saying; it sounded like he was apologizing to General Washington for being ill.

"Okay, come on Crane, duck down." Ichabod complied, stooping awkwardly to get into the passenger seat. He made no move to buckle his seat, so Abbie sighed and reached around him to clip him in.

"Leftenant," he said, resting a warm hand on her arm. "I – thank you for – "

"It's okay," Abbie said. "You can pay me back some other time."

"Of course I will," Crane said, looking at her seriously. "I am in your debt."

Abbie sighed. She hadn't meant him to take her statement as binding, but she wasn't going to argue with him about it while he was in this condition. She patted him on the shoulder and smiled tightly before closing his door and getting into the driver's seat.

"I'm going to stop at the grocery store to pick up some medication for you, okay? I want you to just stay in the car. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Miss Mills," Ichabod said, nodding seriously. "I will do as you ask. I'll not let you down."

"Awesome," Abbie said. She pulled into a Safeway and couldn't help herself from tucking the blanket more tightly around Crane before jogging into the store. She grabbed Theraflu and Ibuprofen along with some chamomile tea and a dark chocolate and sea salt chocolate bar for herself. Lord knew she deserved it. By the time she had everything rung up and was headed back to the car, she estimated only five or so minutes had passed, but she was still worried that Crane could have gotten it into his head to wander off.

Apparently, though, she needn't have worried because Ichabod looked to be unconscious when she got there.

"Ichabod? Hey, Crane, talk to me," she said, worried at the heat radiating off of him. Ichabod blinked slowly, peering at her with narrowed, glassy eyes.

"General? I'm sorry, I'll be well soon, just – just let me sleep for a few more minutes," he said, long fingers fumbling nervously as he spoke.

"It's me, Ichabod, it's Abbie. You're okay, just calm down." She grabbed his hand and held it reassuringly, continuing to murmur to him in low, soothing tones until he drifted off to sleep.

"Damn it," she said as she drove toward home. There was something sadly vulnerable in his feverish pleas, and she wondered where, exactly, he thought he was.

Once they were back to the cabin she wrangled Ichabod out of the car and into some of Sheriff Corbin's sweats. They were nearly long enough for Crane but much too large and hung comically off his thin frame; Abbie hid a smile as she helped Ichabod into bed and watched the soldier pull his sweatshirt close and burrow into the blankets.

"Take these," she said, handing him two pills and a glass of water. He took them in slightly trembling hands and popped one in his mouth. Then he started chewing it.

"No, don't!" Abbie cried, unable to keep from laughing at Ichabod's face as he instinctively spat out the half-chewed pill.

"What is the _meaning _of this!" He shouted, outrage and confusion evident on his face. Abbie quickly stopped laughing and shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing the smile from her face. "I'm sorry. I should have explained better. You're supposed to swallow it whole."

"Whole?" Crane murmured, looking suspiciously at the pill still in his hand.

"Yeah. That's what the water's for. You put the pill in your mouth, then swallow it down with some water."

Ichabod sighed. "I do not understand this time's obsession with making things more difficult than they must be. You have chewing gum that you must not swallow, and pills that you must not chew. Were I not feeling so out of sorts I should protest even more strongly."

"I have no doubt," Abbie said. "But since you _are _feeling out of sorts, how about you just take the damn pills?"

"Of course," Crane said, smiling thinly. He choked on the water initially, but was able to get the pills down with no further issue, much to Abbie's relief.

"I'll make you some tea and then you can try to get some sleep, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

Ichabod was already drifting off and merely waved a lazy hand in Abbie's direction as Abbie headed to the kitchen.

xxxx

Abbie ended up curling up on the couch to sleep after making sure Crane was as comfortable as he was going to be. She had stayed many times on that couch over the years and the familiarity of it hit her with a pang. Some days she felt like she still hadn't come to terms with Corbin's death, like she still half-expected him to be waiting at the diner to share some pie with her, like the whole crazy beheading thing was a dream. Her whole damn life now often felt like a dream, because this apocalypse-witness-crap? Yeah, she never signed up for that. Never signed up for a giant British sidekick from the 1700s either. How the hell was this her _life. _

She checked on Crane periodically, wiping his hot forehead with a cool cloth when he felt too hot, forcing him to swallow more meds when he was lucid enough, and by the morning it seemed like maybe the worst of it had passed. Abbie collapsed onto the couch again, ready to sleep the day away, when Ichabod stumbled in, hair hanging loose and tousled. He still had the blanket clutched around his shoulders, and while the flush of his cheeks was gone, his nose was still red. He sounded congested and coughed into his fist.

"Oh," he said, stopping and blinking comically as he saw Abbie. "Leftenant. I had hoped…" He let his voice trailed off and sighed. "I had hoped I had dreamed it all," he said.

"What were you doing?" Abbie asked.

Ichabod sat down on the edge of the couch, and Abbie scooted over, tucking her legs up underneath her body.

"I – I don't know," Ichabod said, running a hand through his hair. "I was confused and it was so cold, like Valley Forge. I thought I was there again. I knew that I wasn't, but, well." He shrugged, and looked down. "Sometimes, I confess, I cannot believe that I am here, in the 21st century, fighting the forces of evil."

"Trust me," Abbie said, "I can relate."

Ichabod sighed again and kneaded at his forehead with a light groan, before glancing down, jumping to his feet and looking at Abbie with wide eyes.

"I apologize for my dress," he said, inching backwards towards his bedroom door. "I didn't realize – "

"Sit your ass down, Crane," Abbie said, half-smiling in exasperation. "You're in sweats. It's fine. I'll get you some chamomile tea and we can watch some Netflix on my laptop, okay? I've got the day off, so I have a few hours to kill."

Ichabod hesitated for a moment, then slowly sat back down on the couch. Abbie handed him a box of tissues and headed into the kitchen to make the tea.

"We'll watch Goonies, okay? It's classic. I loved it as a kid."

"Very well," Crane said, then sneezed. "Oh dear."

Abbie grinned. Maybe today wouldn't be a total wash after all.


End file.
